In the sticky heat of a June day in Juba, South Sudan’s capital, groups of young men and women sang as they walked along the main road of Shariqat on the east bank of the White Nile. While the men shuttling in slow-moving traffic carried long sticks, the girls wore colorful beads, skirts and dresses. lawsa long piece of cloth tied around the shoulder.
They would dance late into the night along with thousands of other Dinka, one of South Sudan’s largest ethnic groups. my lord (‘acceptance’ in Dinka) ceremony celebrating the outcome of a ‘marriage contest’, a traditional practice in which many men compete for a marriageable girl.
Marial Garang Jil and Chol Marol Deng, two South Sudanese in their 40s who hail from two different Dinka clans in Jonglei state but now live abroad, had been competing for months to marry Athiak Dau Riak, who his mother said was 14 years old.
Athiak’s father, Dau Riak Magany, says that he was 19 years old and consented to the marriage, even though he was in the 8th grade of primary school (children usually start at age 13) when marriage negotiations began in March this year.
He had no choice, he had to choose one… I don’t think he had the option of not choosing any of these guys
Aluel Atem, activist
Her mother, Deborah Kuir Yach, who went into hiding for her safety because she opposed the marriage, says she has evidence that her daughter is 14 years old.
If photos and videos of the meetings had not been posted online and shared quickly, the case could have remained a dispute between family members.
The story of Athiak and her suitors went viral; Athiak was praised in publications across Africa as “the girl at the heart of a historic marriage pageant” for her height and beauty.
After the ceremonial portion of the wedding in June, 123 cattle were given to Chol Marol Deng as his wife in exchange for 120 million South Sudanese pounds (about $44,000 or £33,000) in cash and a plot of land. She was called “South Sudan’s most expensive bride” in TikTok videos that received thousands of likes.
“There is nothing wrong with this marriage,” his father said at the time. Athiak’s cousin, Garang Mayen Riak, who flew from Canada for the ceremony, agrees. Stating his commitment to Dinka traditions, he said, “We are an educated family; we cannot force a girl to marry.” “This marriage is unique because such competitions rarely happen in our modern society. “We’re proud of it because it reminds us of who we are.”
South Sudan’s 2008 Children’s Act bans early and forced marriage, but according to Unicef, child marriage is “still a common practice” and “latest figures show that 52% of girls are minors.” [in South Sudan] “They are married before they reach the age of 18, and some girls are married as early as the age of 12.”
A University of Edinburgh-led report on the “bride price” system in South Sudan notes that “traditional courts generally accept menstruation as a criterion of eligibility to marry” and that early marriage “is a common practice…probably driven by families’ ambitions to earn bride price for their own children.” Daughters as soon as possible”.
According to another Unicef report, 122 million girls around the world are married in childhood each year. More than a third of young women in sub-Saharan Africa were married before the age of 18.
Despite child marriage being common, Athiak’s case shook the country. In a social media frenzy, people started a “campaign” for their preferred suitor. Others promoted the wedding as an affirmation of “Dinka culture and identity”, dismissing critics who decried the process as “an auction of a girl”.
But the online activity also caught the attention of a lawyer named Josephine Adhet Deng, who filed a lawsuit against Dau Riak Magany in June, claiming that he authorized the wedding of an underage child and calling for Athiak to be brought back from Kenya. It was withdrawn shortly after the Agam ceremony.
Questions about Athiak’s age were sparked by a Facebook post from his uncle, Daniel Yach, a Canadian citizen, who said “he is a minor” and condemned the proposed marriage as “a classic example of pedophilia.”
“I was very shocked because I hadn’t seen Athiak since I went to Canada in 2015,” he said in a phone interview. “He was six years old at the time. Then I saw posts about marriage and realized how tall he had become.
“But he’s just a kid. This little girl is being brainwashed. This is the craziest thing ever.
South Sudanese are proud of their culture and identity… but there are also cultural norms that do more harm than good
Sarah Diew Biel, conservation manager
On June 13, when a committee of Athiak’s uncles and father announced Chol Marol Deng as the winning suitor, they said it was “his choice.”
But this did not impress South Sudanese feminist activist Aluel Atem. “He had to choose one of them. I don’t think he had the option of not choosing either of these two guys,” he says.
Atem describes this arrangement as “something akin to a forced marriage”, although Athiak is probably “flattered that the commitments for the bride price are so high.”
“This is now a thing for young girls in Shariqat,” she says. “The logic is: The more a person pays, the more valuable you are. There is a situation attached.”
Sarah Diew Biel, director of conservation at South Sudanese development organization Nile Hope, says: “When you stand up to a thousand people saying, ‘This is the way to get married,’ you become a traitor in the eyes of society. A. hawaja [foreigner] mentality. “It’s mentally and emotionally exhausting.”
Biel works with the police and the Ministry of Gender, Children and Social Welfare, as well as other local organizations and social workers, to provide protection for survivors of gender-based violence in South Sudan, including the use of safe houses for girls escaping forced marriage. .
“South Sudanese are proud of their culture and identity, and so am I, but there are cultural norms that do more harm than good,” he says.
Athiak’s mother tried to prevent the wedding. “I tried to explain to the family that Athiak should not marry,” he says. “But they all insisted.
“They were looking for cows. They saw that Athiak would bring them that great wealth. When I refused, they separated me from my daughter.”
“I tried to kill myself,” she says, the day it was decided that Athiak would marry Chol Marol Deng. “The next day I decided to run away.”
Yach claims that Athiak’s birth certificate and ID were destroyed by other family members. “In my absence, they sneaked out with Athiak to prepare a new age assessment certificate based on a fake date of birth,” he says.
The new passport states that Athiak was born in 2005, but Yach has an emergency travel document processed by South Sudan’s interior ministry in August 2015 that states Athiak was born in Juba on December 28, 2009.
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Today, Yach is confined to a few square meters of the house where he hid, separated from his seven children, and his life has come to a halt. “I don’t know who he’s staying with,” he says of Athiak.
Lawyer Adhet Deng believes Athiak is currently in Nairobi with the family of Chol Marol Deng, who has returned to Canada, where he is likely working.
Adhet Deng is waiting for the judiciary to consider whether his lawsuit will move forward, as the situation is unclear due to a traditional wedding that has already been “sealed”.
But she says there might be another way: “I told my father and other family members to pause this wedding, let Athiak go back to school for at least five years, and then decide what he wants.”
Athiak has never spoken publicly about the controversies surrounding his marriage. But on the eve of the agam celebration in June, he told the Guardian that he would “prefer to study” if the marriage process had not begun.